


Mistakes Were Made

by notaguitarfret



Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [16]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: D slur, F/F, Mildly Dubious Consent, New Friendships, Period-Typical Homophobia, makes more sense in context, r slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 13:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret
Summary: To avoid Heather Chandler, Heather McNamara subjects herself to hanging out with the "Loser Squad".





	Mistakes Were Made

**Author's Note:**

> the dubious consent tag is there for the final scene. no, there's no rape, just two drunk teens who couldn't consent probably, and i thought i'd put a warning.

“You’re kidding. He really did that?”

Chandler hadn’t realised just how far from reality she had zoned out, only now picking up on the conversation that bounced back and forth between Veronica and Duke.

“I know!” Duke exclaimed. “What did he expect was going to happen? He’d get drunk?”

“Wait, what happened?”

Chandler glanced at Mac, who seemed to have zoned out along with her, and be completely lost as to what the fuck the two of them were chatting about.

“Some guy drank ethanol in a chemistry class, the rumour has it,” Duke explained. “What happened afterwards is beyond me.”

“I bet it was a dare,” Veronica said, before taking another bite of her fries. “Maybe to impress a girl?” She shrugged. “Guys, I don’t understand boys and their methods of attracting a partner.”

“No one does,” Duke said.

“I just don’t understand boys,” Mac added, her head sinking into her palm.

“Me neither,” Duke sighed.

Chandler simply listened to them speak. Usually, she would have at least joined in with the conversation - most likely leading it - but today she simply could not bring herself to.

It was the last day of the semester, a day before Heather’s birthday party. By all sense of logic and reason, Heather Chandler should be hyping everyone up, ready to leave this shithole for two whole weeks and celebrating it with laughter, blaring lights and drunkenness.

But she couldn’t.

Listening to Veronica and Duke be so friendly towards each other for the past half hour of lunch break had been hard to listen to. Not because of _ them _, per say, she was sure whatever they were laughing about together was hilarious.

No, it’s because of a cold, empty feeling inside of her was freezing and numbing her veins. She couldn’t pinpoint why exactly she felt the need to fill up that hole with alcohol, all she knew is that she definitely needed some fucking alcohol. And for whatever reason, that hole only became bigger the longer the two of them spoke for.

“Are you alright?”

Her head jerked up at the sound of Veronica murmuring in her ear, mouth close enough for her breath to gently brush her cheeks. She shivered.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Why?”

Veronica frowned at her. “You’re very quiet today.”

Chandler just gave a dismissive huff.

“Whatever. I’m fine.” She stared down at her half-finished lunch, then timidly glanced back at Veronica. “Are… you free later today?”

Veronica grimaced. “Sorry, I made plans with OG friend group,” she admitted. “Since, y’know, I’ll probably be too busy to see them over the weekend.”

Heather let out a disdainful groan.

“Fair,” she muttered.

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Just looking for something to entertain myself tonight.”

“I’m free.”

Chandler turned her head over to Duke.

“You’re asking to hang?”

“I’m in a good mood today, so why waste it?” she replied with a grin. “Better than ruining it by going home and spending time with family.”

Chandler gave a huff.

“Alright.”

“Wait, is everything doing something but me?” Mac asked, glancing around the table.

Duke’s mouth opened to reply, probably to offer her to tag along with them both, if Chandler were to take a guess, to which she immediately shot down with a harsh glare. Her mouth snapped shut as she gave a nod of understanding.

“I… guess?” Veronica said with uncertainty, glancing and both Duke and Chandler, who both looked away. She heard her groan next to her. “Okay, you know what?”

The three of them turned towards her, watching as she stood up and looked away elsewhere in the lunch hall.

“I’ll be back.”

Leaving the three of them confused, Veronica was quick to get lost in the crowd of students, her bright blue blazer becoming a blur to Chandler as she stared after her.

“Wonder what she’s doing,” she mused.

“Guess we’ll find out,” Duke sighed.

* * *

“I’m sorry, you want to _ what _?”

Veronica winced at the disdain in Betty’s tone.

“I know, I know, it’s a pretty tall favour,” she said, running her fingers through her hair nervously. “But I just figured it would be nice, y’know? I didn’t want to leave her alone whilst her whole friendship group was out doing things.”

She gave a hopeful smile as she watched Betty fling her legs over the bench, turning around to face her.

“Veronica, with all due respect,” she began, standing up to meet her at eye-level with a darkened gaze. “I don’t see why that’s much of a concern for you.”

“What?” Veronica blinked, taken aback by the statement. “Why wouldn’t it be? I don’t want to leave Heather alo-”

“You did that to Martha for _ weeks _, Veronica,” Betty cut in, narrowing her gaze. “You don’t see anything wrong with this sudden double standard you have?”

Veronica tried to form some sort of response, but could string no words together to make a mediocre argument.

“And sorry for springing this on you on the same week you’re rushed to the hospital; I’m being nice, here,” Betty said with a more calm tone. “But… we just went over all this with Heather Duke, and everything that we’re mad about towards her?” She shot her a contemptuous glare. “I don’t exactly want to start worrying that you’re going down the same path. Especially since well…” She trailed off, folding her arms in a reserved manner. Veronica arched a brow.

“Since what?”

“You do defend Heather a lot,” Martha suddenly spoke up, still sitting on the bench and gazing up at her nervously. “I don’t know if we’re missing anything, but…”

“Oh come on, I don’t do it _ that _ often!” Veronica protested. “Right?” Her head swung over to JD, who just gave a silent shrug.

“I mean…” she continued. “We did have a talk the other day about everything, and I can’t really bring myself to be mad at her any-”

She cut herself off when Betty made a triumphant gesture towards her.

“See?”

Veronica pressed her lips together frustratedly, before letting out a sharp exhale.

“Okay, I will admit to the double standard,” she confessed, offering an apologetic look to Martha. “Because Betty is right. I did ditch you a lot when I joined the Heathers… and it was a lot worse for you back then, because you were by yourself.”

“It’s okay-”

“_ No _ , Martha!” Betty scolded. Not in a harsh way by any means; if Veronica had to describe it in any way, it would be tough, yet undying love. “She is going to apologise and _ fix _ her mistake of leaving you behind!”

Martha’s eyes darted back and forth, surprised by Betty’s demand, but a small simper appeared on her lips as she nodded and gave a thumbs up.

“She’s right,” Veronica added. “What I did was… pretty shitty.”

“Is there a reason why?” Martha asked.

“Huh?”

“Why you joined the Heathers. I never really… knew why you did that?”

Veronica grew silent, holding Martha’s gaze for a while, before glancing at Betty, who simply gestured her to continue speaking - clearly curious as well.

“I…” She bit her tongue. “I don’t know, I just…” Her eyes dropped to the ground, watching her feet as one balanced on its toes as it swung back and forth. “I guess I was sick of spending every single day in this building trying to fend off every single asshole that came and bothered us.” Her shoulders tensed up. “I wanted to get out this final year alive.” She stared at Martha with anguish. “But that was no excuse to up and leave you.”

A sympathetic look was given to her in return, and Martha nodded in understanding.

“You were always the one to stand up to everyone,” she said sweetly. “And I don’t know how much stress that would put you under, because I don’t know what it’s like to do that.”

“Which is _ why _ ,” Betty cut in, sliding across the bench and stopping right next to her, wrapping an arm around her, “I am currently teaching her some good ol’ _ fight back _ methods.” She gave a prideful grin. “You should have seen her in the hallway before. She actually yelled at someone to shut up.”

“Really?” Veronica asked, eyes widening. “That’s impressive.”

“I still feel very bad,” Martha admitted, though Betty just rolled her eyes.

“The guilt will soon go away and be replaced by an urge to punch everyone who dares to cross your path.” She gave her an encouraging shake. “Trust me, I look back at all the times I panicked over a single shove I gave someone and laugh.” She then slowly turned back to Veronica. “And… I will say, I’m sorry you had to take that responsibility on.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I mean… it was always kind of my thing to do that? I just kinda threw it on you when I left.”

“It wasn’t your fault that you moved.”

“Well no, and at no point did I assign you guardian of the Loser Squad,” she said, “I just feel for you.” She sighed. “Which means… and _ only _ because it’s the nice one… Heather can join us.”

Veronica let out a shocked gasp.

“For real?”

Betty carelessly huffed. “Yeah, why not.”

Veronica let out an excitable squeal, throwing herself on Betty to give a grateful hug.

“Thank you!” she praised. “I’ll ask Mara to join us then.”

Betty let out a snort.

“_ Mara _.”

Veronica sprung off of her to shoot her a glare.

“I need a way to differentiate between Heathers, Betty!”

Betty simply held her gaze with a chilled gaze, cheek resting on a clenched fist.

“_ Mara, _” she repeated, fluttering her lashes at her. Veronica let out a groan, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll be _ back _,” she grumbled, spinning around and hurrying back to her usual table respectively.

* * *

“Can you _ believe _ she said yes?” Heather griped as she rummaged through the infamous liquor cabinet her parents tried to deny even existed. “Is she seriously _ that _ desperate to be around people that she would accept an offer to hang out with _ them _?”

“Maybe it was to hang out with Veronica,” Duke calmly suggested from behind her. While Chandler was aware that it was supposed to be a soothing statement - either to comfort her or to defend Mac - she couldn’t stop the irritable feeling within her veins that sparked in response, and how her fingers tightly gripped a bottle of vodka, nails scraping the glass. The feeling of sharp ends of acrylic pressing against the smooth texture of glass was one that Chandler immediately regretted triggering, however, and she quickly placed the bottle on the counter and shook her hand frantically.

“You okay?” Duke asked.

“No,” she muttered. “Have you ever _ scraped _ glass, Heather?” she turned towards her, and was met with a head slowly shaking. “Well it’s fucking _ gross _.”

“Well I know what you mean, it’s unpleasant, sure,” Duke said, shrugging. “But I don’t know what it’s like to scrape it with actual nails. I don’t _ have _ any.” She lifted her hand and flipped it over several times to reveal her filed down, almost non-existent nails. Chandler sighed.

“You ever considered letting them grow out?” she grunted, grabbing the few bottles she had gathered and stalking off towards her room. As usual. “Might put you off doing certain things.”

“Oh, chill,” Duke replied with a huff as she followed her close behind. “I actually have a therapist now.”

“You do?” Chandler asked, peering back at her as they climbed the stairs, only to have a brow arched at her.

“I mentioned that at lunch. Don’t you remember?”

She took a moment to think, pausing at the top of the stairs with her feet on two different levels, only moving when no memory of the sort came to her.

“No, I don’t,” she said. “Everyone was far too loud in there. Soon as the last day of school comes, and everyone’s chattering as if we’re all one big family, with everyone finally having something to be able to relate to other groups.”

They made it into her room, Chandler marching over to her bed and tossing the bottles onto the middle of her mattress without a single care in the world, before launching herself onto it too, having to shuffle around to have her head leaning on the headboard.

Her eyes then locked with Duke, now that she was facing her, and she was immediately given a doubtful glimpse.

“I’d say you’ve been really out of it today, actually,” she stated as she slid onto the bed, soon neatly sitting opposite Chandler with folded legs, alcohol bottles between them.

“What makes you say that?” Chandler mumbled, folding her arms.

“No reason,” Heather replied. “Just that you’re doing that thing where you keep on daydreaming and be completely out of it,” she said as she began to arrange the bottles so that they were displayed across the bed neatly. “And then when someone snaps you out of it, you just scowl at them and are, in general, a very bitter person.”

Chandler’s foot twitched as she glowered at Duke, inhaling deeply with her chest noticeably burgeoning. It was a well-calculated, though common method of posing some sort of threat or expressing disapproval.

“Don’t give me that look,” Duke said, not even glancing in her direction and she undid the button of her blazer.

“_ What _ look?”

With her head still down, Duke pointed to her folded arms. Chandler could only scorn at her, before unravelling her arms and letting them flop to her sides.

“I’m not having a good day,” she reluctantly confessed.

“And why’s that?” Duke asked, finally looking up. “Did your parents find our alcohol supply and scream at you?”

“Not yet,” she said. “No, I just woke up in a bad mood, okay? That’s all there is to it.”

Duke’s eyes fell to the bottles in front of her.

“Is that what these are for?”

“What do you think?” she fired back, grabbing the vodka bottle and unscrewing the lid ungracefully.

“You’re really just going to down them to make yourself feel better, huh?” she said, resting her chin on her hand. “The first signs of alcoholism.”

The tip of the bottle was about to touch Chandler’s lips, the liquid already running to ruin her red lipstick, when her hand paused, leaving it only half-tilted in the air.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?” she retorted, lowering it onto her lap.

“Oh, come on, Heather. We’re hosting a party tomorrow, absolutely _ full _ of teenagers looking for excuses to drink an irresponsible amount. You’re telling me you can’t think of a single fun thing to do with all of this?”

Chandler’s finger tapped her bottle, a little clink sounding each time her nail hit the bottle.

“Spin the bottle is off the list.”

“Yeah, _ duh _,” Duke replied. “There’s a total of one option, Heather.”

“Hmm.” Chandler swayed her bottle back and forth. “Never Have I Ever is difficult to do with two people.” She rested the back of her head on the headboard and stared at the ceiling. “We could just play truths. Any truths you don’t reveal, and you drink.”

She glanced back at Duke, waiting for approval, and with how she reached for a bottle of her own, she took it as a yes.

“Quick question before we start, though,” she then said. “Have you had a bite of anything, today? Or are you going to be throwing up all over my carpet?”

Duke fell silent, pursing her lips and glancing left to right.

“So should I just…” She took off the cap of her drink. “Take a swig now, or…”

“_ Heather! _”

“_ Okay! _” She slammed it back on the lid and jumped back on her feet, ready to make a journey back down to the kitchen. “What snacks you got?”

“I’ll come with you to look,” Chandler sighed, abandoning her vodka to lead Heather downstairs.

“Can you…” Duke paused in front of the doorway to her room, Chandler stopping close behind her and staring down at her curiously.

“Can I what?”

“Eat with me?” she asked timidly, staring at the ground. “Just to distract me from doing anything stupid.”

Chandler blinked, feeling a wave of sympathy flow over her. Her hand landed on her shoulder blade, and her palm gently stroked her back for a few seconds at most.

“Don’t sound so shy when asking me that.”

* * *

Heather was being very quiet.

She’d been like this all day, ever since lunch period. Mac had been unsure as to what exactly happened, she only knew that the other students of this school had done something bad. Again.

“Heather?” she asked, trying to catch her eye, to no avail.

They’d found a spot to wait for their ride home, far away from the rest of the students. Chandler had struggled to even cope with other people talking too loudly, otherwise her fist would clench and her teeth would grind.

“What?” she eventually replied broodingly. Mac frowned.

“What happened?” she asked. “Why did… why did those kids call you a… you know…”

“A dyke?” she hissed bitterly. “For some stupid, dumb reason.”

Mac pursed her lips, knowing that if she didn’t, she’d ask her-

“You want to know why, don’t you?”

Mac lifted her head, holding Chandler’s darkened gaze as she gave a cautious nod.

“Just…” She scowled. “Don’t tell anyone this, okay?” Her glare was cold. “Not even Heather.”

Mac nodded. “I promise.”

She let out a sigh.

“There was this person,” she began. “They just recently moved into my history class.” She bit the inside of her cheek, her blue eyes anxiously twitching as she spoke. “I’ve never spoken to them before, but… I thought they were cute.” She bit her lip. “Brown, short hair, pretty tall, and awful fashion taste.” The faintest of smiles attempted to slither onto her lips, but it was quick to fade. “Whatever. I thought they looked nice. And some of the other kids were talking about boys and girls they were interested in, coincidentally.”

Chandler then took a moment to look away from her, staring off in the direction of the school, where noisy chatter could still be heard, even from the furthest end of the parking lot.

“So me and my stupid mouth spoke up when it shouldn’t have. I don’t even know why. I hardly knew them, why would I share my dumb little crushes with them.” Her nose wrinkled with vexation. “But I did it. And you know what they said to me?” She turned back towards Mac with a piercing glare.

Mac, after a brief moment of thought, shook her head.

“That’s a _ girl _ , Heather.” Her voice went mockingly high pitched. “What are you, a _ lesbo _?”

Mac gasped in shock. “That’s horrible,” she said. “Did you know she was a girl?”

“No! She was tall and had a boy cut, and had loads of acne!” she exclaimed defensively, “Not to mention the shit clothing decision. Of _ course _ I thought it was a boy!” She stomped her foot. “But I just couldn’t say that, could I? The one thing that could have saved my ass, and I blew it.”

“What… what did you say?”

Heather’s eyes suddenly filled with a somber emotion.

“I said, _ I didn’t know, and I don’t care! _ Like a fucking pillowcase.” She dragged her nails down her cheeks. “I’m such an idiot. No wonder they think I’m a dyke.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Mac told her, hesitantly resting a hand on her shoulder. When Chandler didn’t brush it off, she kept it there, while she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts.

“You know what?” she suddenly spoke again, slowly raising her head. “No. I’m not.” She snarled. “Because I’ve figured it out, Mac. This school fucking _ despises _ anything that’s even slightly different.” She stared at her with wide eyes. “Heck, it’s been like that for _ years. _ All those people who would giggle when we’d get told off in class for not paying attention? It’s the same. Damn. Thing.”

Mac took in her words, considering each one and realising gradually that, yes. They were correct.

“And I just…” Heather looked at her solemnly, grabbing her by the shoulders with a gentle hold. “I don’t want that for you. I don’t want that for Heather, and I don’t want that for me… but especially you.” She swallowed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s-”

“It’s more noticeable with me, isn’t it?” Mac finished with a flat tone. “I know. That kinda comes with being autistic. You act differently to normal people.”

Chandler frowned.

“Don’t call them normal people,” she told her sternly. “No one is normal. They just act like they to avoid getting the treatment that we’ve been getting our whole lives.”

She fell silent.

“Heather?” Mac stepped closer.

“I don’t want what happened to me to ever happen to you,” she murmured. “You deserve better.” Her fingers curled, digging into her sleeves. “I don’t want you to be thrown overboard like everyone else who the school decides to hate on a whim.”

Mac tilted her head.

“I don’t see how anything is going to change.”

“Not if we don’t do anything.” Chandler glowered at the ground. “Heather, I’m _ so sick _ of this happening to us, and I’m going to do something about it.”

She widened her eyes. “Do what?”

“I’m going to fight back. That might mean becoming a colossal bitch, but at least you and Heather will be okay.” Her voice grew quieter. “Hopefully.”

“I’m sure we will,” she reassured with a half-smile. “I trust you.”

Heather’s hardened gaze grew softer.

“Then could you… trust me to help you through this?” she murmured. “Just stay by me, okay? I don't want anyone to hurt you.” She frowned. “You know as well as I do that they’ll be ten times worse than they were in elementary if they find something about you to target.”

“Yeah…” Mac sighed. “I think about it a lot.”

“Just-” hands landed on her cheeks, holding her head up, “-stick by me, Heather. I’ll help you get through. Even if it means…” Her expression became sour. “I don’t know. Maybe you’ll have to become a bitch too, like me.”

Mac grew stiff.

“I don’t know if I can.”

Chandler shrugged. “Me neither. You’re really nice.”

That made Mac simper.

“So if you’re ever struggling… just follow me lead, I guess.” Her head hung a little, as though she was silently demurring the words she had let out of her mouth.

“Hey, I trust you,” Mac repeated, playing her hands on her freckled cheeks, lifting her head up. “And of course I’m going to stick by you. We’ll get through this.” She gave a thoughtful hum. “I’ve heard a phrase that’s pretty accurate for this, but I can’t remember how it goes.”

“Fake it ‘til you make it?” Chandler asked. She nodded in confirmation. “Yeah… pretty much.”

The two of them looked back towards the school and the students that crawled around it, screaming and yelling at each other.

“Let’s just hope that… you’re right to trust me on this,” Chandler murmured.

* * *

“I don’t think Betty likes me all that much.”

Veronica turned to look down at her.

“What makes you say that?”

Heather casted a side glimpse towards Betty, who was walking alongside Martha and holding a conversation with JD, who sauntered behind them both.

“She keeps looking at me.” She rubbed her arm with discomfort churning in her stomach. “I don’t know exactly what it means, but it’s nothing positive.”

“I think she’s just wary,” Veronica said as they continued to walk down the hallway of the mall, students finally free from high school bustling around, excitedly diving into one store and then leaping out into the other like dolphins. “I don’t think she likes the idea of being seen with a Heather.”

“Why not? Everyone loves the Heathers.”

“Well… she’s not really a fan of popular girls, so-”

“Veronica!” Heather suddenly gasped, halting in her tracks and grabbing her arm. “_ Crystal store _.”

“Huh?”

She tugged on her blue sleeve, pointing to a small, hippie-looking store with displays of plants, gemstones and dream catchers in the windows. Inside there were dark browns and maroons on the walls and carpet, and the store itself looked tiny in comparison to many others. It was _ perfect _.

“This is where I bought Heather’s present!” she said, dragging her closer. “Can we go and look?”

“I-” Veronica hesitated, and Heather saw her glancing over to her friends, who were already a fair distance further down the mall. “I’ll ask them.”

Heather squealed in excitement, flapping her hands. “Thank you!”

“No problem.”

She released Veronica, letting her hurry over to the trio who had yet to turn around, while she stayed put by the window, staring at the rubies, gemstones that shimmered in the light that beamed through the glass and onto the green surfaces, both rough and smooth.

“We going in?”

Heather spun around, seeing that the group had returned, Veronica standing closest to her with a smile.

“Martha likes gems too,” Betty said dryly, nudging Martha forwards into the store, JD following behind them both silently. Veronica bit her lip as she watched them all enter, only to shake off her expression to replace it with a warm smile.

“Come on,” she said, gently taking hold of her hand to guide her inside. Heather smiled at the contact, wanting to tighten her grip on the girl’s hand and not let go. Alas, that couldn’t be, as once the strong smell of incense and sketchy herbal medicines hit her, Veronica let go. Her eyes still lingered on her hand, however, wishing she could hold it close for longer than a few _ friendly _ moments.

“Aw, nice, mood ring,” she heard JD say a little further down the store. She glanced at him and Betty crowding around a shelf, both looking down at, presumably, JD’s hand. “Tell me how I’m feeling.”

A short pause.

“What does black mean?”

Betty glanced at a little pamphlet displayed in front of her, next to the rings.

“You’re depressed.”

JD stared down at the ring.

“They _ do _ work…”

Heather grimaced, feeling slightly concerned for the guy, but dared not to ponder on it for too long. She figured staring at two people who clearly weren’t pleased about her presence would only lead to more conflict that she… _ really _ didn’t want to deal with right now. That was kind of the point of coming here.

To occupy herself, she instead let her feet carry her over to a circular wooden table with many tubs full of small, pebble-like gemstones. Each one was organised into different categories - one labeled with garnet, one with turquoise, opals, agate… then some others around the other side that she couldn’t see. She took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the garnets in front of her, all different shades of red mixed together in a glimmering in the dimly lit store.

She shoved her hand right into it.

The corners of her mouth curled up at the feeling of the smooth textures rolling over her skin as she moved her hand around in the tub, accompanied with pleasant clacking sounds as the garnets piled on each other.

“I didn’t know you liked gemstones.”

Her hand jolted out of the tub in surprise, and she turned to face Martha, who was sheepishly standing close by, next to the opals.

“Oh… yeah,” she replied, bringing up a finger to hook her pearl necklace. “I guess you could say I… like them.”

“That’s nice,” she said, smiling. “Um… what’s your favourite gem?”

“Oh! Um… chrysocolla.”

Martha blinked, eyes growing a little wide. “I haven’t heard of that one.”

“They might have it somewhere here.” Heather spun around, scanning the store for the familiar crystal, ready to settle for either a green or a red version. Hopefully both.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her eyes falling on one of the necklaces dangling from a wall of jewelry. “Here.”

She scurried over to the necklace, picking the gem up in her palm. It was mostly red, with speckles of green around the edges. It was encased in a silver frame, attached to a chain of the same colour.

“Pretty!” Martha said, sweet and innocent. Heather let herself smile, feeling comfort in her bliss. It was only after a while of staring, however, did she realise what the polite thing to do would be.

“Oh, um, what’s your favourite gem?”

Martha glanced at her, mouth slightly open during the time it took her to respond.

“Rose quartz,” she eventually replied.

“I like that one too,” she said. “It would be a good colour on you,” she added, looking at her light pink sweater and the matching bandana pushing her dark brown, almost black dreads backwards.

“I… thank you,” she replied gingerly, twiddling her thumbs.

“No problem!” she chipped happily, though no enthusiastic response came from her, only nervous shifting in her spot.

“Is there a reason you’re being nice to me?” she suddenly asked, daring to gaze at her right in the eye.

“I… huh?” She fluttered her lids, puzzled. “That’s just what people do, isn’t it?”

Martha shrugged. “Yeah, but… I dunno, last time you spoke to me, you blindfolded me to trick me into, um… you know…”

Heather felt her heart sink when she realised what she was referring to. Wow, had that really been the last time she’d spoken to her?

Not exactly the best impression.

“I-” she stammered. “I was just doing what Heather wanted,” she explained, attempting to laugh it off with a broken giggle. “She thought it would be funny.”

“It wasn’t funny for me.”

Heather fell completely silent, feeling a huge weight fall on her chest in hearing those words. It was as if the guilt that should have hit her in the moment of all that happening had suddenly decided to wake up after its three month long nap and stabbed her in the heart.

Guilt she knew that _ should _ have been there this entire time, but had managed to tip-toe around to avoid waking it up in the first place.

Wow, thanks for stepping on its tail, Martha.

“Hey, Martha, check this out!”

She heard Betty call her from around the corner, and she only offered what she could assume was a smile built from the expectation for women to be polite no matter the circumstance. That’s all she was given before she disappeared, joining in with a much more ecstatic conversation with Betty elsewhere in the store.

Heather sighed, folding her arms and chewing on her lip. Her eyes wandered over the patterned floor, getting lost in the zig-zags that would eventually lead her to blue and white sneakers.

“You okay?”

She raised her head to look up at Veronica.

“Yeah.”

“I saw you talking to Martha,” she said, shuffling closer to her. “Thanks for not being a bitch.”

Heather’s gaze dropped again, though she did lean closer to Veronica, relishing in the warmth brushing over her arm.

“That isn’t something you should thank someone for,” she murmured.

She looked back up at Veronica, whose brow was furrowed while she was likely lost in thought.

“You’re right,” she said. “High school just lowers your standards a lot.”

It was as she said that did JD poke his head around the corner.

“I found this cartilage piercing and thought of you.”

He held up a tiny, yet sparkling blue ring.

“_ Oooo! _” she cooed with interest, hurrying over to the group that stood out of sight from Heather, who stayed put in her spot.

Left alone with her thoughts, she let her eyes travel around the many shelves surrounding her, staring at the dream catchers hanging from higher shelves and big, heavy rocks on the bottom shelf. Everything was a blur, up until her vision decided to focus on a light pink block of crystal on one of the bottom shelves, one that held a little succulent plant inside.

She could easily name the gem type. Rose quartz. It was a distinct looking crystal. Light pink and rough around the edges. Pleasing on the eye.

Hmm.

Glancing in the direction that the rest of the group had disappeared to, she was able to confirm that she was definitely out of their sight. With that in mind, she slipped her fingers around the crystal pot, not even glancing at the price as she scampered over to the cashier, which was thankfully out of view from the rest of them.

“Hi there, Heather,” the woman at the counter greeted her. Though the stench of weed - a smell enough to make her gag - lingered around her, she was willing to put up with it thanks to her friendly demeanor, as well as the fact that she… kind of needed to go near her to buy things. “Nice to see you here again.”

“You too,” she replied with a smile, dropping the plant pot on the counter. “Just this, please.”

“Good choice,” she commented, taking the label and scanning it. “Would you like a bag? A gift box?”

“Both, please,” she said. “And… could I leave a note in the box like last time?”

“Of course!” she said, grabbing a small slip from under her desk and placing it in front of her, along with a pen.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile, beginning to write the note.

Unlike Duke’s, this message was short, so she was quick to finish it, slip it into the box, slip the box into the bag and shove that bag into her handbag.

“Have a nice day!” the cashier said as she finished.

“You too,” she replied, turning around just in time to see the group returning from their corner.

“Anyways, we done here?” Betty asked, her eyes avoiding crossing Heather’s.

“Aren’t you guys buying anything?” Heather questioned.

“Have you seen the prices?” Betty retorted. “I can’t spend thirty dollars on a hunk of rock, no matter how sparkly it may be.”

As they all walked out, with Veronica staying behind the group to wait for Heather to follow on next to her, Heather couldn’t help but cast a glance back at the price tags on the shelves.

_ You can’t? _ she wondered to herself, as she latched onto Veronica’s arm firmly. _ Is it really that much? _

* * *

“Okay, okay, uhh…” Chandler pondered for a moment, leaning back against the headboard as she swayed her folded legs in and out, paying no heed to how her knees would collide each time. “Tell me how many dicks you’ve sucked.”

Duke snorted, grabbing a random drink from in front of her.

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” she replied, pouring in some tequila into the terrible concoction they were both creating.

A few changes to the rules of Truths had been made. Chandler had picked up some glasses out of her mini “items that I would otherwise have to go downstairs for” stash under her bed and had created the rule of having to pour in different types of drinks each time, and then chug whatever gross mess was in there every five questions. If you’re lucky, you’ll either have only one type of drink or none at all.

Right now, there was a mix of tequila and gin at the bottom of Duke’s glass, while in Chandler’s there was vodka, liquor and beer.

“Last question before we drink,” Chandler pointed out, swirling her glass in circles and mixing up the liquid in there. “Please be nice and give me a question I can answer.”

“No,” Duke replied dryly. “Here’s a question. How often do you masturbate?”

Chandler let out a scoff.

“Depends on the mood. Twice a day if it’s a good day.” She then lifted the glass and poured the drink into her mouth, before throwing her head forward, gagging at the flavour. As to not spill any on her sheets, she had to cover her mouth, just in case any came spilling out.

“Really? Twice?” Duke asked, while Chandler had to take a moment to recover from the disgusting flavour that was still very rich in her mouth

“Hey, drink,” she instructed, pointing at Duke’s drink. She just rolled her eyes and gave a groan, before taking in a breath and quickly gulping it down, her face twisting up in disgust.

“And yeah, twice,” she added, narrowing her gaze at her. “Anything wrong with that?”

“No, I’m just surprised.”

“Hmm.” Chandler tilted her head. “Then my next question is, how often do _ you _ masturbate?”

Duke raised a brow.

“Very infrequently.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Chandler absentmindedly brought the glass up to her lips.

“Why are you drinking?”

She glanced back at her.

“Hm?”

Duke pointed to her glass. “We only drink when we need to, Heather.” She curiously glanced at her cup. Also, there’s like… a droplet in there?”

Chandler, feeling a little dazed, looked down at her glass and saw the brown droplet swimming around at the bottom of the glass.

“I dunno, maybe I wanna drink more,” she said, shrugging as she threw her head back so the droplet would fall into her mouth.

“Me thinks you’re a little tipsy,” Duke pointed out, smirking. Chandler indignantly scoffed.

“I just like _ flavour _ in my _ mouth _ , okay?” she argued. “Give me a _ break _!”

“I know that, you just don’t like admitting it.” She shifted her body around so that she was lying on her stomach, legs kicking back and forth in the air. “You’re a pen chewer, just like Emmy.”

“That’s somethin’ we and we alone bond over,”

“You mean like how you two will literally _ kill _ each other over what colour the number five is?”

“The number five is fucking _ yellow _ I have _ no _ idea how she can see _ purple _ ,” she rambled. “Oh, and she thinks June is yellow! It’s _ red _!”

Duke stared back at her, dumbfounded.

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I-” Chandler paused, jaw still hanging open as her eyes narrowed. “We somehow started talking about Mac.”

“She’s my friend and I like talking about her,” Duke shot back.

“You never like talking about _ anyone _ when it ain’t bitching.”

She pouted, averting her gaze and sinking into her shoulders, not saying another word.

“Shall we just move on from her then?” Chandler then commanded, rolling her finger in circles to try and push the conversation forward. Duke sighed.

“Yeah, sure.”

Chandler slumped back against the headboard, her back almost slipping down onto the mattress as she listened to Duke’s next question, one that she ended up with having to add a drink to her glass. The question she asked her in return was one that ended up with Duke pouring some alcohol in her own cup.

They swapped back and forth, answering some and avoiding others, while the entire time, Chandler would look around the room, watching as her vision grew slightly more heavy each time she moved her head, and how when she swayed from side to side, her weight only seemed to get heavier.

“That’s five for each,” Duke announced. “Drink.”

“_ Nice, _” Chandler giggled as the mixture of liquor, vodka, gin and cider ran down her tongue to the back of her throat. She would have gagged in disgust, but the tastes were beginning to grow numb on her taste buds. “Heh. It’s gross.”

“I _ know _,” Duke griped. “You really wanna keep going?”

“Uh, yeah?” she snorted. “Issit getting too much for you?”

“Wh- _ no _,” she fired back defensively. “No, it isn’t. Next question.”

“Aight. Um…” She clicked her tongue, waiting for her brain to come up with some obscure, invasive question that wasn’t too similar to one she’d already asked, and one that Duke would most likely be able to answer. Though, if she were being honest, not many of that category came to mind all that easily, especially not when things were getting so fuzzy.

“Got one,” she then said, grinning deviously. Duke’s brow raised with intrigue.

“Yeah?”

“What is the worst… slash embarrassing thing you’ve done during sex.”

Heather tightly pursed her lips, the corners of her eyes curling as she seemed to silently debate to herself whether or not to answer.

“Tricky question, because I have two answers.”

“Oh?” Chandler shot off the headboard, leaning closer with interest. “Do tell!”

She let out a lengthy groan, her voice muffled by the pink blankets as her head fell forward.

“Okay, well, the _ first _ one,” she began, picking up her head. “Basically, I was with this guy, and we were- well, _ I _ was doin’ a blowjob, since y’know.” She shrugged. “That’s all I really do, innit? But yeah, that was happenin’, and he was basically being way too rough, y’know.” She scorned, flicking her hair back with her free hand. “He was just super handsy with me. Like… fuck off, I don’t want your grubby man hands on my hair. You never wash your hands after going to the bathroom, and you think you can even _ touch _ it, never mind _ pull _ it after I just washed it?”

Chandler blinked at her.

“You literally have his dick in your _ mouth _, Heather.”

Heather let out a scratchy, hoarse hurling sound in response.

“Not the point.” She silenced her with a single gesture. “Point being, he was bein’ too rough, and when I told him to stop, he didn’t listen. Because men are just _ like that _.” She paused to bite the inside of her cheek. “So I bit his dick.”

In a failed attempt to hide the snort that rumbled in her throat, Chandler covered both her nose and mouth with her palm.

“_ Ouchie _,” she commented with a snicker.

“Glad you thought it was hilarious,” Duke said. “But the more I think about it, that’s definitely the better one out the two.”

“Oh no,” she sniggered. “What’s the other one then?”

“Okay, well,” she started, resting her cheek against her palm, letting it be squashed against it. Duke did have very chubby and cute cheeks. It was cute. Cute like a pudgy cat. _ Cute _, she thought.

“So, another blowjob, and another pushy guy. Only this time he was _ very _ set on me swallowing.” She gagged in disgust. “Though I’d gotten a tissue and everything, he still insisted. So much I couldn’t pull back when he came because he just pushed my head forward.” She rolled her eyes. “Little did he know, _ I _ was set on not swallowing that shit, so I-” a loud snicker cut her off.

“You...?” Chandler leaned a little further forward in anticipation.

“I kept it in my mouth, and then went up to kiss him, and I just…” Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip to block any more laughter that may have come out. “Gave it back.”

It took a moment for Chandler’s mind to catch onto what must have been done, and when it clicked, she melted into a laughing fit, dropping her glass on the bed and falling onto her side.

“That’s _ genius _,” she praised while cackling, rolling onto her back as her lungs gasped for air.

“It was disgusting,” Duke said.

“I might just try that next time I sleep with some asshole,” she said, grinning wildly to herself. “Don’t worry, I’ll credit you.”

“Please _ don’t _,” she said. “Also, you’re gonna drop your glass.”

Chandler had to blink open her eyes when she felt the object her palm firmly gripped suddenly slip out of her hold, confirming that it had been taken by Duke.

“Uh, mine?”

“I think you have drank too much, Heather Kimberly Jessica Chandler.”

“It’s _ Heather Jessica Kimberly Chandler _.”

“_ Sorry, _” she snarked.

“Hmmm, next question!” she then commanded, clapping her hands together in the air while the ceiling above her drifted in an infinite circle, constantly restarting each time her irises would twitch.

“Okay? Um… what haven’t I already asked?”

Chandler stared at her as she became lost in thought, her legs rolling back and forth impatiently.

“What’s… the most embarrassing thing you have said or done to either me or Emmy while drunk?” she eventually asked.

“Hehe… a lot,” she replied. “Lemme think.”

While her mind ran through the many options (that she was able to remember) of which she could pick from, she ran her tongue over her teeth and tapped her hands on her chest to a non-existent rhythm.

“Oh!” she blurted out, making Duke visibly flinch. “There was that one time I was, uh…” she paused to giggle. “I was talkin’ to this guy, right? And he must’ve mentioned a threesome or somethin’ at some point.” She rolled over onto her side to look at Duke. “I dunno if he _ actually _ wanted a threethome, but I guess I assumed he did, so-” she covered her mouth as she snickered, while Duke gave a snort.

“Threethome?”

“_ Ssshhhh _ , three _ some _ ,” she corrected herself. “But I guess I was just… really horny, so I just went up to Mac and was like, _ ‘hey… so what are your thoughts on threethomes. Just curious. _”

“You did it again.”

“_ Ssshhhhh! _ ” she hushed her harshly. “But uh, she said, _ ‘I don’t know, Heather’ _ , and I was just all… _ ‘you wanna find out?’ _” She covered her face with her hands, shielding herself from any judgemental stares she may get from Heather, as well as muting the whine that came from her mouth. “I might as well just given her a note made from shredded line paper, crumpled up and passed down the classroom rows, maybe with a winky face.”

“So you-” Duke let out a wheeze. “You were essentially flirting with Mac?”

“_ Indirectly! _”

“That’s still a _ yes _.”

“Ugh, _ no _!” Chandler argued, glaring at her through gaps between her fingers. “I don’t wanna think about flirting with her - or anyone - right now.”

Duke arched a brow.

“You flirt with a lot of people, Heather.”

“_ So? _”

“_ So _ , why not want to think about flirting with anyone?” She leaned over the side of the bed, placing the two glasses on the floor. “This isn’t really a Truths question, this is just me asking in a genuine, curious and a _ please fucking let me onto what’s happening _ way,” she leaned forward, resting her chin on her linked hands. “What’s going on between you both lately?” 

Chandler froze, her hands becoming limp and dropping onto the blanket. She blinked, staring blankly at Heather.

“I can’t tell you,” she said robotically.

“Why not?” Duke asked, frowning. “I usually know about every piece of drama in this group! I get why _ Veronica _ doesn’t know what’s happening, she’s still technically new, but why-”

“What are you talking about? Veronica knows.”

Duke halted.

“Wh-_ what _?”

“She’s kinda involved in the whole thing…” she murmured, her mind drifting off to all the events that at happened in the past two weeks. Oh wow, that’s a lot, huh?

“So everyone knows except me?” she vaguely heard Duke gripe. Her mind was too busy to pay her much heed, however. Too busy thinking about how much time she had spent- no, _ wasted _ either avoiding or bitching about Mac, whether it be behind her back or to her damn face.

“Yeah…” she just about remembered to reply to Duke, who gave a vexed scoff.

“What is so important that I need to be kept out the loop? What the hell happened?”

Chandler bit her lip, feeling the back of her throat begin to ache as she became more and more lost in her thoughts that buzzed around in her mind like flies that were too fast to swat away.

“I miss her,” she whispered.

“Huh?”

She shot up off the bed, messy ginger hair strands flopping over her face as she looked down solemnly at Duke.

“I really miss Mac, Heather,” she repeated, her voice weak. “I don’t like fighting with her. It doesn’t feel right. It’s _ weird _.”

Duke squinted at her.

“I will just ignore the fact that you seemed pretty okay with fighting with me constantly and did in fact, view it as normal.”

“That’s _ different _ !” she exclaimed. “With _ you _ I was just being an insecure little shit and didn’t like it whenever you called me out for anything or… whatever. With Mac it’s…” She brought her hand up to her mouth and bit down on her nails, almost hard enough they might snap. “This all just started with some dumb little jealous feud over Veronica and it turned into something so much worse.” She dragged her nails down the side of her face, bringing some hair down with them.

“A- I’m sorry, a _ what _?”

She tried to maintain eye contact with Heather, but noticed her vision was beginning to grow too watery for her to actually know where her eyes were. She sniffed.

“I shouldn’t be telling you,” she mumbled. “But I’m a piece of shit and I’m going to anyway.”

She crawled around the dent in the bed, crafted from the weight of the many alcoholic drinks, and slumped next to Heather as tears rolled down her face.

“It’s my fault we’re arguing,” she confessed, looking down at her hands.

“No shit.”

Her eyes flashed up to meet Heather’s, and she made out her deadpan look and scowled.

“But what were you saying before?” Duke then said. “A jealous feud?”

Chandler swallowed thickly and slowly nodded.

“Meaning?”

“Well, what the fuck do you think it means, Heather?” she barked. “That Veronica picked Mac over me to paint nails with one time?”

Duke fluttered her lids. “Heather, in my defense, I am drunk, but I don’t know if I’m missing something here.”

“_ WE BOTH FUCKED VERONICA, HEATHER! _”

Her room flooded with a deafening silence, dread filling Chandler’s veins to the brim. Her mind was pissed and her body wouldn’t stop swaying, and worst of all, her emotions were too messy to gather up and glue back together to at least look like a presentable display.

She, at the very least, had the sense to drag her eyes away from Heather as she sat up. The quiet was choking her, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to let herself continue to be choked, or for her airways to just be cut off already.

Apparently the latter, since Duke opened her mouth, finally speaking.

“Wait, you’re gay?”

Chandler dropped her hands and frowned at her.

“What?” Duke said, holding her hands up in defense.

“That’s really what you’re shocked about?”

“I mean… yeah.”

“And not about Veronica and Mac.”

Duke shrugged. “I mean… sure, but now that you tell me, it isn’t _ that _ shocking.” 

“Why?”

“Emmy has women all over her locker, Heather. And, I dunno, Veronica just gives off not-straight vibes, I guess.”

Chandler raised a finger to argue, only to immediately drop it when no protest came to her.

“But I… didn’t expect that,” Duke added. “Am I going loopy? Do I need to vomit?”

“Please don’t.”

“So long as I don’t drink any more,” she said, pushing the bottles away from her. “Wait, so, _ that’s _ what happened?” She stared at her in bewilderment. “You’re both just fighting over _ Veronica _?”

“I-” She bit her shaking lip. “That’s… the base of it.”

“Oh my God,” she muttered, running her fingers through her hair, eyes filled with disbelief. “You all just…”

“_ Yes _, Heather, we both fucked our dear friend Veronica. It’s not that shocking.”

“No,” Duke replied, _ whatever that meant _ , “what _ is _ shocking though, is you actually _ fighting _ with Emmy over it?” She shot her a puzzled look. “You never fight with anyone over… anyone.”

“Well it’s not just _ that _ we’re fighting about,” she grumbled, holding her arms close to her chest, fingers curling up and scratching the white fabric of her shirt. “But it doesn’t matter, because I don’t _ want _ to be fighting with her anymore, Heather!” Her lip quivered. “She’s my best friend and I miss her.”

“Okay, well... “ Duke slowly began. “Why is _ she _ mad at you? I can’t imagine her being a jealous bitch.”

She sniffed sadly. “She isn’t.”

“So why-”

“It doesn’t matter why!” she barked, Duke jumping in surprise at the sudden raise in volume. “What matters is that she isn’t talking to me, and I can’t bring myself to talk to her, and I caused a shutdown without even knowing, and I can’t even take this goddamn ring of to _ spite _ her!” she spluttered, tears dripping off of her jawline and onto her skirt as she tightly gripped the yellow and red ring around her finger, sliding it up and down and pressing it against the bone, leaving a white trail behind it with each movement.

“If she’s not talking to you, then clearly it does matter, Heather.”

Chandler huffed dangerously.

“Well maybe she should get over it so we can just go back to normal.”

A cold palm landed on her face. It would have blocked her vision had she not closed her eyes and scrunched up her nose.

“_ No _,” Duke scolded. “That’s not how this works.”

She pouted.

“Then how does it work?” she whined, pulling Heather’s hand off her face, only for it to immediately attach itself to her cheek, alongside her other cheek getting the same treatment. Her head was tugged down, and her eyes were forced to lock with bold green.

“You talk to her,” Duke told her sternly, though her flushed face and drunken gaze ruined the effect easily, “If it really is all your fault, then you’re the one who says sorry.” She released her face, but Chandler hardly noticed, continuing to stare right at he intently. “Knowing Emmy, she’ll probably approach you first. But knowing you, you’d take advantage of that. So this is me telling you now,” Chandler found herself being shoved backwards, landing on the mattress with a little bounce, sandwiched between it and Heather glaring down at her from above, the red lighting from her lampshade outlining her figure with a bright, bold blood red.

“_ Talk. To. Her. _”

Chandler pressed herself back against the soft blanket, sinking into the pink fabric. Heather’s stern voice, along with her dominating stance of staring down at her from above, made her whole body heat up. There was no way she was winning this one.

“I’ll… think about it,” she muttered in defeat. “If I can think of anything to say to her.”

“Good, because I’m so sick of you two fighting.”

“So is Veronica,” she sighed, feeling a sudden pang of guilt.

“So is you,” Duke said. “Is that what’s gotten you down today?” She backed up a little, leaving Chandler room to sit up. Regardless, Chandler stayed put.

“Yes and no,” she grunted. “I just woke up this morning feeling like shit. As if I know why the fuck that is.” Her hand crawled to the side, searching for a bottle to grab hold of, just for it to be immediately slapped away. She snapped her head towards Duke. “Um?”

“You’ve had a lot,” she told her. “You’re sobbing all over the place.”

“It’s for a _ good reason _ !” she fired back, voice breaking. “What if this is _ it _, Heather?” She pressed her palms against her temples. “I’ve completely fucked over our friendship. What if she’s gone?”

“Heather, you’re overreacting.”

“_ You don’t know that! _”

“Yes I do.”

Chandler wiped her eyes vigorously. “And what makes you think you do, cocky bitch?”

“Because we’ve been feuding for maybe… two years?” she shrugged carelessly. “And I am still sitting here, drinking with you.”

Chandler’s stiff shoulders dropped.

“I… I guess, but-”

“Emmy isn’t the type of person who holds grudges, to the point where I constantly remind her to hold grudges.” Her hand slithered around her own. “So long as you both figure out a way to sort out whatever it is you’re arguing about, she’ll come back around.” She let out a light chuckle. “It’s not the end, Heather. It’s only been two weeks.”

Chandler deflated, letting her whole body give up and flop forward, her head landing on Heather’s shoulder. Duke yelped, grabbing onto her torso to keep them both sitting upright.

“Too _ long _,” she moaned. “I just wanna go back to going to parties and having drinking competitions with her.”

“We’re having a party tomorrow,” Heather said. “Talk it out, and maybe you’ll get it back before the night ends.”

“Maybe.” She let out a sigh, sinking into the gentle hold she was wrapped in. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

A brief silence lingered for a few moments, before a tickle arose in Chandler’s throat, causing her to let out a little giggle.

“Why are we drinking?” she questioned with a snicker. “We literally have a party tomorrow, and we’ll likely get drunk off our asses.” She pressed her face against Heather’s shoulder. “This was a silly plan. Who came up with this? We’re gonna get so _ ill _.”

“_ You _ did!” Duke snapped, before letting out a chuckle herself. “This was all your doing, and I blame you.”

Chandler just laughed more, lifting herself off of Duke and falling back onto the bed, her chest heaving.

“Heather, are you actually alright?”

Chandler blinked open a tearful eye to see Duke gazing back at her with a concerned expression, which only caused her to laugh more.

“I’m just…” She paused to giggle. “I’m a little out of it today.” She felt tears escape the corners of her eyes, dripping down the sides of her face and probably smudging her eyeliner more than it already was. Oh well.

“You really are,” Duke said with a snicker. “But I don’t really mind.”

“I don’t see why,” she said, still giggling. “I always figured you’d laugh.”

“As of two weeks ago, no, I wouldn’t.”

“I…” she looked over to Heather, biting her lip. “I like not arguing with you. You’re very sweet.”

She noticed the colour of her cheeks grow a shade darker, only for them to quickly be covered up by her hands.

“No, no!” Duke griped. “I don’t know what’s happening with me lately! Everyone keeps calling me sweet.” She fell onto her side, landing right next to Heather, her hidden face inches away from hers.

“I don’t know either,” Chandler said, flipping over onto her side to face her. “Maybe we uh…” She licked her lips. “Maybe we had too much to drink.”

Duke removed her hands from her face, revealing a look that only said, “no shit.”

“Well _ sometimes _ just need to take the edge off, okay?”

“I guess it’s my fault for joining you.”

Chandler let out a giggle. “No, no,” she shuffled up until she was pressed against Heather. “I’m glad you did.”

As she continued to laugh while her world continued to sway, she heard Heather let out a chuckle.

“So am I.”

* * *

“We’re home, mom!” Martha called into her house as the group entered,

“Oh, hello, sweetie!” a voice called from upstairs.

As Heather stepped out of the tiny porch, she was surprised to see just how cramped the house was in comparison to her own. The hallway she stood in was narrow, making her feel cramped up with the group as they all struggled to slip their shoes off. Eventually it was just her and Betty by the door, both hopping on one foot to try and take off the final shoe.

Heather got her shoe off first, neatly placing it next to her other, whilst Betty was having a small struggle with her spiked boots.

“So.”

She flinched in hearing her speak up suddenly.

“What are your thoughts on Veronica?”

Heather stared at her blankly, unsure how to interpret the look she was being given. Betty wasn’t smiling… but there was no curled lip or narrowed eyes that showed any sign of aggression.

“I like her," she said, swallowing down the rest of that sentence, which would have been something along the lines of, _ “I really enjoy being around her, and honestly, she’s very attractive.” _

“What about her do you like?”

Heather tilted her head, unsure why she was being asked these questions, but cared very little about what the reason may be.

“She’s… kind,” she began. “That’s very generic, I guess, but she really is compassionate.” She smiled, her hands fidgeting with the bow attached to her belt. “Did she ever tell you about how she walked all the way to my house, _ in a storm _, to come and see if I was okay after a bad day?” She felt her chest flutter.

“She didn’t,” Betty replied, leaning back against the wall with her arms folded. “That is pretty sweet of her.”

“I know!” she chipped, bouncing a little. “And I love how bold she is! She never seemed afraid of challenging Heather, despite being a newcomer.”

Betty’s eyes glazed over her short, purple nails.

“If only I could be noticed for that feature.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Anything else to add?”

“Oh! Um…” She tapped her fingers together. “Well, she’s supportive, I like her sense of humour… and she isn’t afraid to stand up to people!” She grinned. “I admit, it was kind of enjoyable watching her completely topple Heather that one time. I mean, Heather’s my best friend and all, don’t get me wrong…” A slight bitter taste was left on her tongue when those words left her mouth. “But, I mean, bitch against bitch?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to put Veronica on the same level of bitch as Heather Chandler,” Betty stated. “But sure.”

“Why’d you ask?”

Betty gazed at her calmly.

“I was just curious.”

She watched her as she slipped into a room, and just as she was about to blindly follow her, the stairs in front of her began to creak from above. She glanced up, and locked eyes with a short, middle aged woman, fairly round with loose, comfy-looking clothing, along with frizzy black hair that looked as though it would usually be tied up.

She so obviously was Martha’s mother.

“Oh! Hello there,” she greeted, seemingly surprised about her presence. “I don’t think we’ve met!” she added, stopping at the bottom of the stairs, not far away from Heather.

From the room she stood next to, Heather heard feet scrambling towards the door.

“Hi, Judy!” Veronica exclaimed, swinging forwards into the hallways with her hands on the door frame. “This is Heather.”

“Oh, I see!” Judy said with a welcoming smile, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Heather nodded in reply, remaining quiet up until she saw the hand being held out for her. Her head snapped down towards it, reminding her brain to respond as quick as she could.

“Oh,” she mumbled, scrambling to take hold of the hand that had been patiently waiting for contact. “Um, you too.”

The handshake lasted a few seconds, with Judy being the one to retract first.

“I- I apologise if this is odd for me to say, but have we ever met, Heather?”

“Hm?” Heather was taken aback.

“I doubt it,” Veronica said. “She’s more my friend than she is Martha’s.”

“Oh no, not recently, I just…” She trailed off, tapping her cheek and narrowing her brown eyes at her. “I just recognise your face!”

Heather took a moment to try and put the puzzle pieces together, staring back at Judy intently. Now that the possibility of some sort of previous relationship had been mentioned… she did look familiar. _ Very _ familiar. If only her hair was tied back, she’d look a lot like someone who shared a last name-

Wait.

Oh.

_ Oh! _

Heather hardly had any time to process the revelation, as it seems Judy had come to a similar realisation at a similar time, and had let out a gasp.

“Your last name doesn’t happen to start with an M, does it?” she asked. “Or is it a C?”

“Uh- um…” Despite it being such a simple question, Heather just couldn’t find the right words to reply with.

“It’s… McNamara?” Veronica said. “We have another friend called Heather whose last name begins with a C though.”

“Oh, yes! I remember now!” Judy stepped forward with a wide smile on her face. “I remember you! I used to teach two girls named Heather in a special needs class many years ago!”

Heather let out an alerted squeak when hearing those words out loud, her body frozen in place as she tried to think up the appropriate way to react. While a gleeful, nostalgic feeling sparked in one part of her, the rest of her wanted to run back out the door, denying everything. Oh, God, could any of the others hear her speaking?

“Special needs class?” Veronica echoed, curious, before her face lit up. “Oh, right! I remember you saying you were mute.”

“Mmm,” is all she could reply with, along with a curt nod.

“I’d use the word non-verbal,” Judy said. “I figured that was the more appropriate term for-”

“I just use mute!” she blurted out, cutting her off. “I- um- I’ll be back, I just need fresh air.”

Without giving either of them a second glance, she pushed past them both and made her way towards what looked like the back door. She was hit with a cold wave of air as soon as it clicked open, and she saw that, in comparison to her own, this backyard was _ tiny _. The bushes and hedges surrounding it definitely needed some trimming, too. It was hard to tell, though, with there being minimal light. Shapes had no depth and a branches’ appearance was debatable in what it actually looked like, with it having no colour but a dull navy. They could be hands stretching out from the trees, for all she knew.

At least there was a table with three chairs surrounding it. At random, she pulled one out and fell onto it, finally letting herself breathe as she buried her face in her hands.

In the quiet, with the only sounds being some pigeons and a light breeze ruffling bushes and branches, she was finally able to unpack her thoughts.

_ Fuck _ , she thought to herself. _ My favourite teacher of all time, and I’ve been bullying her child. _ She groaned to herself. _ God-fucking-dammit. _

The tranquil silence was suddenly broken when she heard the door slowly swing open. At first, she assumed it was Veronica pulling her usual gimmick of checking if she was okay despite her not asking for any assistance, but no, in turning around, she saw Judy standing in the doorway, looking as non-threatening as possible.

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

Heather’s hands dropped onto the table.

“Yes,” she replied, straightening herself up. “I’m just… used to a bigger house? More room to breathe.”

“Ah, yes, I remember,” she mused as she slowly walked over to her. “Your father earns a lot, doesn’t he?” She circled the table and placed a hand on the chair opposite her. “I don’t remember what your mother did though.”

“Does it matter?” she muttered, looking away. “She left me years ago. Who the fuck knows what she’s up to.”

There was a small pause before Judy spoke again.

“I never liked that woman,” she admitted. “I hardly interacted with her, but every time I saw her with you, she’d be dragging you around by the arm.” She shook her head. “Gave off horrid vibes.”

“Try being her daughter,” she hissed. “But it’s fine,” she said, more calmly. “She’s gone, and I never give her a second thought.”

“I’d say that’s a good approach,” Judy agreed. “Do you… mind if I sit?”

Heather glanced at the chair opposite her, before nodding.

“So,” she began as she shuffled her chair forward. “What brings you here? Martha hasn’t mentioned you before.”

Heather bit the inside of her cheek. _ I wonder why. _

“I’m Veronica’s friend,” she explained. “Heather and Heather - my two other friends - they’re hanging out with each other, so I decided to come here to avoid being alone.”

“Oh, I see.” She nodded. “Do the two of them have a date or something?”

She raised her brows.

“Huh?”

“I just figured there was some reason you wouldn’t also hang out with them.”

Heather let out a snicker. “Oh, no no, they would never-” she snorted, “no, I didn’t want to be with Heather.”

“Oh?” Judy tilted her head. “Which one?”

The corners of her mouth dropped.

“Chandler.”

Judy frowned.

“What’s happened?” she asked. “I remember you two being inseparable. What could have possibly caused a rift?”

Heather stared at her own two hands as her fingers tapped the wooden table in a consistent rhythm.

“She just…” She bit her lip. “Heather’s changed a lot, Mrs Dunnsto-”

“Please, call me Judy.” She chuckled. “It’s the only way for people to not get mixed up between me and my wife.”

“Oh, I see- wait.” She widened her eyes. “You have a wife?”

“Indeed,” she said with a smile. “She works late, though, so I don’t know if you’ll meet her.”

“Oh,” Heather said, feeling an odd sense of comfort washing over her. “That’s… very nice to know.”

“I’m glad you think so. That could have gone one of two ways.” She laughed. “But anyway, as you were saying.”

“Huh? Oh! Right.” Heather brushed her stray bangs out her face. “Yeah, um… we’re just having a bit of an argument right now, is all.”

“What about?” Judy asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Heather pursed her lips. “The… simplest version would be that, well…” She rested her cheek on her palm. “I dunno… she’s changed a lot.” She stared off into the distance, watching as the branches of some trees in the garden next to them swayed back and forth. “She’s still my best friend and all, I just wish she could… act more like it.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Because I’ll be honest, Judy, neither of us act anything like we did in elementary school.”

“I gathered that by the fact that you’re no longer non-verbal,” she said with a smile. “And you’ve dyed your hair! I almost didn’t recognise you because of it.”

“And I didn’t recognise you in your PJs and loose hair,” Heather shot back playfully. “But I’ve been verbal for years.”

“Well, yes, I remember you speaking when you were about eight years old or so. I was more thinking about how you’re definitely much more vocal now.”

“Oh,” Heather said with a sheepish smile. “Yeah I… that all seemed to improve a lot after my mother left.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

Her smile then faded in remembering what she was going to say.

“But, um, when I say we don’t act like we did back then, I mean it in a bad way.” She chewed on her lip. “Because one thing that hasn’t changed is how people treated us. Middle school only made it worse, since at that point children had learned that teachers yelling at you for calling someone a retard - if that were to even _ happen _ \- no longer had a lasting effect on them.” She scorned at the many, many memories of middle school that flashed before her eyes. “One thing that did change was us realising why it was that children didn’t like us.”

She looked back at Judy to check if she was still listening, and with how her eyes were wide open and her brows were raised and furrowed, she could assume she was.

“So once we figured that out, we… tried to fix it.” She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “But I guess with that, it meant being a lot more meaner. But it worked, the three of us - well, four, including Veronica - are never really bothered anymore.”

Judy grimaced. “You don’t sound very happy about that.”

Heather sank into her chair.

“No, because I feel like I’ve traded being constantly targeted for having neurodivergent traits for being an asshole.” She let out a long-winded sigh. “And usually I’m… fine with that. Because at least I’m not the one being bullied anymore. I don’t risk being thrown overboard, I don’t think.” She turned her head away, shielding her face from her. “But, um… now I kind of feel bad.”

“Why’s that?”

She grimaced as the guilt punched her in the stomach.

“I just wanna apologise if your daughter has ever come home crying about what some bitches in school did to her,” she mumbled, letting her hair fall over her face, encasing her in the shame.

Then there was silence. It was silence that really hurt. It was choking. It only beat the guilt further into her head.

“If that’s the case,” Judy eventually said, her voice quiet, “then why are you here, Heather?”

“Hm?”

“You’re claiming to be a bully of Martha’s,” she said. “But here you are, in her house, after a day with hanging out with her.”

“Well, I said before… I decided to hang out with Veronica today,” she replied gingerly. “This just kinda… came with that.”

“Heather, look at me.”

She winced, but slowly removed her hand from her face, though made little effort to clear her vision of her hair. She locked eyes with Judy, feeling a wave of dread flush through her, even if nothing in her eyes told her that she needed to fear anything.

“Listen, I understand feeling as though you need to fight back against an unjust system that only favours a certain type of person,” she began. “But do you really want to conform to that system.”

Heather scorned.

“No, but there isn’t another way to get through it without being constantly ridiculed.” She slumped back in her chair. “I mean, it would be _ nice _ to go through high school without having to be an asshole, but I’m pretty sure there isn’t any such thing.

“You could just… not be mean to everyone,” Judy suggested. “Maybe only the people who definitely deserve their teeth kicked in?”

“I know that sounds like an easy compromise and all, but that just makes you an arch nemesis.” She shrugged as her leg bounced. “I’m pretty sure that’s why Veronica joined us. I can tell she’s a fighter and all, but she definitely didn’t have enough energy to keep it up for another year.”

“And I think you’re right to say that. That approach is indeed reductionist when I don’t consider the consequences,” Judy said with a nod. “However… look at it this way, Heather.”

Heather looked up at her.

“I know high school has been hard for Martha. It’s probably been hard for Betty, Veronica and JD as well. But it’s going to be over in about six months, and then they’ll be free.” She leaned forward, clasping her hands together as she gazed at her with a stern look. “They’re going to come out with a closely knit friendship group. They can wave goodbye to all their troubles, take some time to heal, and eventually, high school is going to become irrelevant.” She sighed. “What do you think you’re going to come out with, Heather?”

Heather blinked.

“Um…” She bit her lip. “Well… I’m pretty sure my own group will still be close.”

“In spite of any arguments you’re having?”

“It’s not that bad of an argument!” Heather argued. “Compared to Heather and Heather over the past few years, two weeks means jack!”

Judy raised a brow.

“I… okay, to be fair, Heather and Heather have been getting on well lately.”

“That’s good,” Judy said. “So, removing possible fallouts from the equation… what else are you going to come out with?”

“Not… many wounds?” She shrugged. “No one ever bothers us any more.”

“I know. But Heather, where do you think _ other _ people’s wounds are coming from?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but in realising what her answer would have been, she clamped it shut.

“Exactly,” Judy said, apparently having read her mind. “I can tell you’re not actually a bad person, Heather. And I hope that both Heather and Heather aren’t either. And I hope that, because of that, you wouldn’t want to be the thing that people need to heal from. Wounds that can take years to heal, mind you.”

Heather bit her lip, unable to think up a response that wouldn’t be either difficult to admit to, or make her sound like an apathetic, cruel bitch.

“But I shouldn’t keep you here. I imagine Veronica is worrying about you.” She pushed her chair out and stood up. “She seems very fond of you.” A smile finally crawled back onto her lips as she walked off, stepping back into the warm yellow light of the house.

Admittedly the cold breeze that at some point during the night was comforting to listen to, was beginning to grow cold on her skin. She yearned for warmth again, perhaps cuddled next to Veronica on a cozy couch.

But in walking back towards the door, she felt guilty in taking that refuge after everything she had put poor Martha through. She had used her as a pedestal to raise her own social status enough. She didn’t need to be any more of a leech than she already was.

Silently, she scurried through the hallway, back to the front door where she had left her bag on a peg. She quickly rummaged through it, grabbing the paper bag inside and shoving it in her blazer, holding it against her so that it wouldn’t fall straight through it and smash on the ground.

“Mara!” Veronica called as she entered the room, quickly running over to her. “Are you okay? You’ve been gone for a while.”

“I’m fine! Just needed some fresh air, as I said.” She smiled reassuringly, before glancing over to JD and Betty who were both settled on the couch, watching some film she didn’t recognise, the volume turned down quite a bit. “Hey, um, where’s Martha?”

“In the kitchen,” Betty replied. “She’s baking, so we decided to put a horror movie on.”

“You ever seen The Shining?” JD asked.

Heather grimaced.

“I… don’t really like horror.”

“Oh. Whoops,” Betty grunted.

“We can change it to something else?” Veronica offered.

“Oh, no it’s okay!” She began to side step away. “I’ll just… go in the kitchen.” _ Smooth, Heather. _

“Are you sure?” Veronica asked. “I can go in with you-”

“_ No, _ Veronica!” Betty barked. “You’re not allowed to go in a steamy room after this weeks events.”

Veronica crossed her arms and pouted.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Betty’s right,” Heather told her. “I’m not letting you inhale any water vapor.”

Veronica let out a reluctant groan. “_ Fine _.”

Heather gave her an apologetic grin as she sat back down next to JD, before hurrying over to the kitchen further ways down the room.

As soon as she stepped onto the tiled floor, her nostrils were hit with a sugary, sweet and chocolatey.

“Huh? Oh, hi!” Martha turned around in surprise. “Did you need something?”

“No,” she said. “Just… um…” She glanced at the glass bowl in front of her. “Do you need any help?”

Martha paused her mixing motions and widened her eyes.

“Uhh… sure.” She pointed towards a cabinet across the room. “I’ll need to get the cookie cutters out from over there. Mind getting those for me?”

“Sure!” she chipped, quickly hurrying over to it and bending down. One hand still holding the bag in her blazer, she opened the cabinet up and searched for the cookie cutters.

“Oh, these are cute,” she cooed, picking up some heart-shaped cutters. “Oh! Is this a bunny?”

She held up the red cutter to Martha, who nodded.

“Mhmm!”

“Hmm…” She bit her lip as she stood up. “Any other day, I’d ask if we could save a cookie for Heather. She loves rabbits.”

“You can if you want! I made a lot of dough.”

Heather faintly smiled as she placed the cookie cutters on the counter. “It’s fine. We’re arguing, and I don’t know when we’re going to make up.” _ Please let us make up. _

Martha offered a sympathetic gaze.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.

“Don’t be sorry, she’s being a bitch.”

Martha tilted her head.

“Isn’t she always?”

“Exactly.”

Heather leaned her hip against the counter, watching as Martha continued to mix the cookie dough around. At one point, she asked her to add more cocoa, which ended up in a big brown cloud attaching itself to both of their clothes.

They both laughed. It wasn’t a stain they couldn’t remove, after all.

Eventually the dough was ready, and Heather watched Martha lay the shaped cookies out across the tray. Each of them were neatly cut and looked as though they were already ready to eat.

“You’re really good at baking,” she commented. Martha fluttered her lashes.

“Thank you!” she said with a smile. “It’s pretty fun.”

“I prefer to decorate food rather than bake, personally.”

“Oh!” Martha shoved the tray in the oven. “Do you want to help decorate them, then?”

Heather grinned. “Of course!”

“Great!” She beamed. “Now, I just gotta go to the bathroom. Mind watching the oven for me?”

“Sure,” she said, watching her leave the room. It took a few moments of quiet for her to remember that she was _ still _ holding the plant pot in her blazer. She bounced off of the counter, glancing around for a place to set it down, perhaps.

Her eyes landed on a window sill, where there were two plants sitting on either side.

A small space lay between them.

_ Perfect _.

Quickly checking to make sure the others in the living room weren’t watching, she quickly scrambled to get the box out of the bag. She didn’t take out the pot from the box it was in - she needed _ some _ way for Martha to read the note.

Once it was neatly placed on the window sill - not too noticeable, either - she crumpled the bag up and threw it away, turning her attention back to the oven, and not long after, Martha returned.

“Are they okay?” she asked.

“Yeah!”

Martha grinned, before beginning to gather numerous sprinkles and icing.

“Thanks for helping me, by the way,” she then said as she set them out neatly on the counter. It was nice not baking alone.”

Heather smiled.

“You have nothing to thank me for.”

* * *

“You know, considering you were the one who _ insisted _ we come to this party, you don’t look like you’re having a good time.”

Chandler picked her head up from resting her chin on the table to glare at Duke.

“Shut up, Heather,” she snapped. “I’m having a hard time.”

Duke skeptically arched a brow.

“You mean, with the argument _ you _ caused?”

Chandler hissed a string of curses through gritted teeth as she turned away from her, only to regret that decision when her eyes landed on Mac, sitting a few seats away from her, splashing her drink around in her red cup. She noted that her cheeks were becoming a little flushed and her eyes were glued to the contents in her hand, not once looking up at her.

It had been like that for quite a while now.

She eventually dragged her gaze away, bringing herself to look at her own cup, about to tip it into her mouth. She only stopped when she saw there was nothing but a brown drop left over.

“I need another drink,” she grumbled, slipping off her stool.

“All you’ve done tonight is drink,” Duke said.

“Your point?”

Duke sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“My point is, I don’t know if I trust you to walk over to the drink table.”

Chandler rolled her eyes. “It’s only over there.” She gestured to the open door to the room that was parallel to the one they sat in. “I’ll be fine.”

Right after she said that, her whole body wobbled and tipped over as she took a step. She didn’t fall, but she came very close to tripping over.

“Mhmm?” Duke jeered, causing Chandler to growl.

“Just come with me if you’re that concerned.”

“Only because I don’t think you can make it another few steps without falling into someone’s arms,” Duke said as she stood up. “Who you’d then probably proceed to fuck.”

Chandler swung around and glared at her dangerously.

“Shut up,” she spat. “I don’t just pick up some random guy and proceed to pull them.”

“Sometimes it feels like you do.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think inviting you here meant I’d be slut-shamed all night,” she snarled, before calming herself down as she looked over to Mac, who was still facing away from her. “Um… hey, Mac?” she called timorously. “I’m getting more drinks. Do you want anything?”

She didn’t turn around, to her chagrin. Though she did pick up on a short reply.

“I’m set, _ thanks _.”

That final word seemed incredibly forced. She frowned, feeling the same dejection she had felt for the past few weeks, before continuing to walk towards the drink table.

“Heather,” she heard Duke call, running up behind her. “I didn’t mean it like that-”

“It sure _ sounded _ like it,” she snapped, not giving her even a glimpse.

“I just meant that… well… your _ taste _ is questionable.”

Chandler shot her a sly warning glare.

“I just mean, if you actually stopped to evaluate who it is you’re planning to fuck, perhaps you wouldn’t end up sleeping with every horny dickhead you so much as side-glance at.”

She just groaned.

“Sorry for not treating my body like the sacred temple that it is,” she sneered. “I’ll make sure the next guy I fuck is wearing a crucifix around his neck.”

Duke frowned at her. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“No, I _ don’t _ know it, Heather!” she barked. “Stop telling me what I can and can’t do!”

Heather fell silent, briefly parting from her as they maneuvered around a trio of teens that were in their path.

“I’m not!” she protested, running back over to her. “I’m saying, maybe be a bit more tactful with the guys you hook up with, because when you don’t do that, you end up with-”

“_ Hey _ ladies.”

They were only a short distance away from the drink table when a slimey voice could be heard from behind them. They both spun around with matching expressions of disgust, eyes landing on none other than Ram.

“My point exactly,” Duke sighed. Chandler dismissed her quip, shaking her head.

“The fuck do you want, Ram?”

“I’m glad you asked,” he said with a suspicious grin. “I was just wondering if you were doin’ anything right now. Because if not,” he took a step closer to her, far too close for comfort, and swung an arm over her shoulder, “maybe we can have a little _ fun _, y’know what I’m saying?”

Chandler took one look at the cup in his hand and the dazed look in his eyes, and jumped straight to the conclusion that alcohol was fueling… _ some _ of his words. She threw his arm off of her.

“I’m not in the mood, Ram,” she said. “Go bother someone else. There are plenty of chicks who are horny enough to take you up on the offer.”

“Oh come _ on _ ,” he whined. “You were _ super _ into it last time. What happened?”

He looked as though he were gonna move closer, causing Chandler to slam her hand into his chest to keep him in place, far enough from her that his alcohol-ridden breath didn’t invade her nostrils.

“I was _ curious _ then,” she said sternly. “...And horny,” she added quietly. “I didn’t do it because I _ like _ you.”

“I’m sure I can change that,” he slurred.

“God, you’re gross,” Duke spat, stepping forward. “Get lost.”

Ram turned towards her, the corners of his mouth drooping. “You’re the least fun Heather.”

Duke folded her arms and raised a brow.

“Define ‘least fun’. On what scale are we talking here?” She narrowed her eyes. “The ‘fuckable’ scale? If so, I’m completely fine with that.”

“I wouldn’t go round parading the fact that you’re still a virgin,” Ram snarked, which made Duke visibly shrink a little. In spite of how angry she may be at her, Chandler wasn’t about to let him get away with that.

“Maybe she just has standards,” she shot back. Ram only laughed.

“Implying that you don’t,” he said. “Which I highly disagree with, by the way.” He gave the most awkward ‘attractive’ pose he could muster in his state, one that neither of them paid any attention to. She could only avert her gaze and think,

_ Fuck. _

“I’ll repeat myself, _ get lost _," Duke said, her voice more firm. “I don’t think Heather wants to deal with someone who claims to love fucking girls, and then not know how the fuck the female anatomy works.”

Ram’s shoulders slumped, filling Chandler with relief in realising that he finally gave up on his pursuit.

“You’re no fun tonight,” he muttered. “Well, help me out with one thing, at least.”

“If it involves any mouths or tongues, I’m not interested,” Chandler replied, also hearing Duke let out a grunt of disgust.

“No, jeez, I was just going to ask if you’ve seen Kurt.”

Chandler gave a careless shrug. “The fuck if I know.”

“Outta look,” Duke grunted.

“Well, _ thanks anyway _, I guess,” he mumbled, before stumbling off to attempt his next seduction which was most definitely going to fail. Chandler just rolled her eyes, before turning back around and making her way to the table.

“You want anything?” she grumbled as she poured herself a mixture of an energy drink and vodka.

“No thanks,” Duke said, shooting her drink a questionable look. “That kinda put me off.”

Chandler shrugged. “Good way to keep me awake, I guess.”

And honestly, the drink didn’t actually taste that bad. It all depends how much vodka you mix in with it.

They slowly made their way back towards their table in the other room, Chandler already chugging down her drink on the way and the two of them making sure to take cover from any pervy guys that may try to pounce on them.

“We’re back,” she announced when they returned to the table, not surprised when she heard no acknowledgement from Mac.

But then she looked up, and she realised that there was no one there to respond to her. She froze.

“Um… where’s Mac?” Chandler asked, looking around the room frantically.

Duke shrugged. “Probably went to the bathroom,” she said. “Alcohol does make you piss like a bitch, after all. And she’s drunk a lot.”

“I… I guess.”

Though she wasn’t very soothed by that, they both sat down anyway, patiently waiting for her return.

Ten whole minutes had passed by the time Chandler stood up.

“I’m going to look for her.”

“I’m sure she’s fine, Heather,” Duke said, though with how she kept glancing around the room, Chandler could tell that she didn’t fully believe what she was saying either.

“Come on,” Chandler told her, abandoning what was left her drink and grabbing Duke by the arm, dragging her onto her feet. “We’re going to the bathroom.”

With that, Chandler marched out the room, shoving past anyone in her way whilst keeping a tight hold of Duke as she made her way over to the downstairs bathroom. As expected, there was a queue.

“Excuse me,” she said to the first girl in line, who already looked ticked off before she snapped her head up at her.

“What?”

“Who was the last person that went in there?”

She shrugged. “How the fuck should I know? All I know that he’s been in there for _ five minutes _.” She slammed a fist on the door. “Hurry it up in there!”

Chandler sighed, double-checking every person in the queue to check if Mac definitely wasn’t simply standing there, waiting for her turn. She failed to find any evidence that she was, and turned around.

She hurried up the stairs and made her way down to the bathroom that only had three people waiting outside - none of them were Mac.

“Do you guys know who’s in there?” she asked before she even stopped in front of them. The three of them gave her an odd look.

“We… don’t know her name,” one of the guys said.

_ Her! _ she exclaimed internally.

“Did she have blonde hair?”

They all looked at each other again.

“No? It was brown.”

Any hope she had was deflated right away, and her shoulders slumped.

“Oh. Thanks anyway.”

She turned around and chewed on her lip, wondering what the hell to do next.

“She might just be downstairs,” Duke suggested. “Outside, perhaps?”

She didn’t respond, only grabbed her again and marched on forward. They darted back down the stairs, weaving in and out of rooms on a wild search for her, but found nothing.

They raced outside, scanning the backyard as thoroughly as they could, but saw no one who may have been her.

“Please tell me I’m just too drunk to spot her,” she said shakily as they stood on the patio.

“With how well you’ve been walking, I’d say this whole thing has sobered you up.”

Chandler felt her heart sink.

“Okay, let’s check the front.”

They both spun around, all argument forgotten as they ran in unison towards the front door, feeling no need to even hold each other any more. Chandler felt a mixture of both worry and comfort in seeing that Duke was now just as panicked as she was, causing a churning feeling in her gut that she hoped was just the alcohol that she had drank.

They stepped outside, holding on desperately to the last few shreds of hope she could snatch, but found _ nothing _. There weren’t even that many people out here.

“Oh, God,” Chandler breathed. “Where the fuck is she?”

“Hey,” Duke said with a soft voice as her hand landed on her arm. “She’s gonna be _ somewhere _. We didn’t leave her for that long.”

Chandler gave her a doubtful look.

“What if she _ isn’t _?” she stressed. “What if she got so sick of being with me and walked home?”

Duke shook her head. “She wouldn’t do that in the dark. She’s not stupid.”

“She’s drunk!” she blurted out. “What if she _ did _?” She held her face in worry. “She might be out there all by herself!”

“Heather, calm down!” Duke told her, but Chandler only shook her off.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” she snapped. “I should have never left her by herself! What was I thinking?”

Duke fell silent for a moment.

“It’s my fault as much as yours, if not more so,” she said calmly. “I left her too, and I’m more sober than you are.”

Yet her words went in one ear and out the other, carried off by the breeze into the night. She didn’t reply, only looked longingly off in the distance.

“We didn’t check the third floor,” Duke suddenly spoke again, nudging her arm and point up to the highest set of windows. “And we didn’t really check the second floor all that thoroughly either.”

Chandler frowned at her. “Why would she be on either of those floors? The party is happening downstairs.”

Duke shrugged. “It’s worth taking a look. Who knows?” She took hold of her arm. “Maybe she got overwhelmed and needed some quiet.”

Chandler blindly followed her back inside the house, eyes heavy, dragging across the floor.

“I guess.”

They walked back up the stairs in silence, walking around the second floor for a while, peeking in every room that they could open.

Nothing.

Duke had to haul Chandler up the next set of stairs, she was so devoid of any hope. When she got up there, she basically kicked each open door forwards, of course, finding nothing. There were only two other doors left, and both were locked from the inside.

“She’s not here,” Chandler sighed, walking back down from the end of the corridor towards the stairs, but only making it half way before her legs gave way and she collapsed on the floor. “I don’t know where else she could be.” She hugged her knees and hid her face behind the wall that was her arms.

“We’ll find her,” Duke reassured her. “We can always take another look downstairs?”

Chandler scoffed. “And find jackshit?”

Just as she spoke, she heard a clicking sound from behind her, followed by the creaking of a door opening. She lifted her head, glancing over her shoulder and looking at a door that had previously been locked.

At first, no one stepped out, and Chandler had to wonder if the door had even been opened, or if there was some truth to Mac’s wacky ghost beliefs.

But then a small figure stumbled out. Her footing was wobbly and not at all stable, and she had to catch herself on the wall opposite to stop herself from toppling over.

But she was there.

“Mac!” Chandler exclaimed, leaping back onto her feet and dashing over to her. She didn’t care if she still held any ill will against her when she jumped on her, pulling her in for a tight embrace. “Oh thank _ God _.”

“For fuck’s sake, Heather, where did you go?” Duke then scolded, coming up behind her. “We’ve been looking literally _ everywhere _ for you! Why would you go off somewhere alone?”

Chandler parted from the hug, though still kept her hands on both of her arms, giving her the opportunity to speak. Yet, her mouth didn’t even open. She just stared back at Duke with a dazed gaze.

“Oh, right, sorry,” she eventually slurred with a giggle. “Yeah I… I got a lil’ caught up.”

“Caught up with what?” Chandler asked. Mac looked up at her with a goofy grin.

“Y’know… you talk to us abou’ how _ greaaat _ sex is, but, uhh…” She shrugged. “I dunno, I’m pretty underwhelmed, to be honest.”

Chandler froze, her blood turning cold, almost _ ice _.

“I… _ what _?”

She whipped her head towards Duke, whose eyes were wide with shock. They shared a brief look of fear, before Chandler turned back to Mac, bending over a little to meet her at eye level.

“Mac,” she murmured, her voice quivering. “What do you mean? Why are you saying that?”

Her hazel eyes flickered from left to right, lids drooping slightly. Chandler had one hand under her chin, holding her head upright. God, she looked as though her feet were going to crumble beneath her any minute.

One of Mac’s hands curled around her wrist and she smiled.

“I just figured it… might lighten up my night a lil’ bit.”

“Mac… Mac, _ please _ don’t say that,” Chandler whimpered. “Not when you’re this drunk.”

“Mmm… my cheeks hurt a lil’,” she grumbled, rubbing her flushed cheek, before flopping forward, head landing on Chandler’s shoulder. Chandler stumbled back a little, only just catching them both before they both tumbled onto the floor. “I’m really sleepy too. Maybe I shouldn’t have chugged that much vodka…”

Anything else she was saying didn’t land for Chandler. She was still frozen in place, holding Mac up on her feet, staring forward. She could hear her heart beating in a panicked manner, drumming against her skull like an alarm.

“Heather?” Duke squeaked.

“She can’t have,” she murmured. “Not like this. Not in this state.”

She let them both fall on the floor, holding Mac in her arms as she curled up against her, head resting on her chest.

Duke sauntered over to them, looked down at them both with apprehension.

Then she glanced at the door.

Chandler hardly paid any attention to her as she slowly stalked towards the door, not making any sound. She could hear her push the door a little further forward, and it was only when she heard her let out a horrified yelp did she look up. She saw Duke, back pressed against the wall next to the door frame, face stricken with dread. Chandler’s heart twisted and she could only feel her stomach growing more and more sickly.

“What?” she asked.

“There are _ many _ things I never wanted to see in my life. And quite frankly, I’d take seeing vomit all over the toilet seat over seeing Kurt’s dick out on display _ any day _.”

Chandler’s chest seemed to tighten with dismay.

“Oh… no.” She hit her head against the wall behind her. “No, _ no, NO! _” She slammed it again, and again, and again, only stopping when she noticed Duke slowly peering back around the door frame to look back inside the room.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“Chill, I’m just closing the door,” Duke muttered. “I know he’s an asshole, but he’s passed out on the bed and I wouldn’t want people gazing at his dick without him knowing.” She grimaced as she forced herself to look into the room in search of the handle, and as soon as she grabbed it, she looked away, clearly relieved.

“Are dicks supposed to be that small?”

“_ Close the door, Heather. _”

“Sorry!” She slammed it shut, and let out a sigh of relief. “That was horrible.”

“We have bigger problems than Kurt’s tiny dick, Heather!”

“No kidding. It was _minuscule_.”

“_ Heather! _ ” she barked desperately. “Can we _ please _ focus on the bigger issue at hand?” She felt a familiar aching grow at the back of her throat as she looked back down at the passed out girl on her lap. “They _ fucked _ , Heather! Mac and Kurt _ fucked _!” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I leave her alone for a few minutes…”

“Heather,” Duke murmured, crouching down in front of them both. “We don’t know that.”

Chandler shot a fiery glare at her.

“Oh, so what, her talking about sex before meant _ nothing _?” she snarled. “You think Kurt whipped his dick out for funzees?”

Duke shrank into her shoulders.

“I… I don’t know.”

“You _ do _ know, you just don’t want to admit it,” she spat. “And I don’t blame you.” She gazed back down at her with remorse.

“This is all my fault.”

She sniffed, and Heather shuffled closer.

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is!” she fired back tearfully. “I left her alone! I let this happen! She gritted her teeth. “I told her I’d always be with her, right by her side, and the _ one time _ she fucking needs me, I disappear!”

Duke fell silent, looking as though she was searching for her words, but found nothing of value to say.

“She would have never left my side if I didn’t fuck everything up,” she cried, pressing Mac against her. “And now I… I don’t even know if she’ll _ remember _ this.”

“She might.”

“_ Look _ at her, Heather!” she demanded. “I know you wouldn’t know this because of how little you drink, but when you’re _ this _ pissed, you don’t remember _ shit _ !” She dug her nails into Mac’s light yellow dress. “She’s not going to remember her first, and I can’t even tell if that’s a good or a bad thing because it was with _ Kurt _!”

She swiped at her eyes, wiping the tears away.

“I guess I’d rather her remember it though. I… I couldn’t imagine not remembering something like that.”

The two of them didn’t speak for a good while, simply listening to Mac’s light breaths as she slept.

But the longer she stared at her, the more ill she felt. She may even throw up, thinking about her being lured in by that piece of _ shit _ for a human being. If her mind were thinking calmly and rationally, she may give him the benefit of the doubt and say he was probably also drunk, and that it was the alcohol responsible for him being passed out on someone else’s bed with his dick out.

But her blood was boiling and her fists were clenched. She didn’t care what state he was in, all that mattered is that he lay a hand on her to begin with.

Hands that she may not even _ fucking remember were there _.

It was only when she finally dragged her eyes away did she realise the hall was slightly spinning, and she suddenly remembered she herself was also drunk. Granted, next to Mac, she looked more sober than ever, but she was aware she wasn’t all there.

All she knew is that she felt so… _ so _ fucking dirty right now.

“You know it isn’t your fault, don’t you?” she heard Duke say.

“Whatever,” she hissed, grabbing hold of her words and tossing them out the window. She hoped they smashed into millions of pieces. Just like any piece of worthless trash.

“We need to leave,” she then said. Duke widened her eyes at her.

“Now?”

“Yes, _ now _,” she growled. “I’m not spending another damn second here.”

“The party doesn’t end for another two hours,” she said. “You’re leaving early?”

“Yes.”

“You _ never _ leave parties early.”

Keeping a firm hold of Mac, she grunted as she pulled herself onto her two feet, Mac being yanked up along with her.

“I know.” She looked at Mac, who had been awakened by the sudden movement, her bodily drowsily trying to figure out whether or not she was lying on the floor, feet sporadically flailing around. “But we are today. We’re leaving early.”

Duke raised a brow.

“How, exactly? We don’t have a lift home for quite a while.”

“Find a phone,” she commanded. “Call Mac’s father. He’ll be the least bothered by… _ this _.”

Duke hesitated.

“_ Now _.”

She nodded, before darting off towards the stairs, eventually disappearing. Chandler let out a sigh, before looking back at Mac, whose head was resting on her shoulder. She thickly swallowed, desperately not wanting to start sobbing again.

“Mac…” she murmured. “I’m so… _ so _ sorry.”

She rested her head on hers as she let the last few tears in her eyes roll down her face.

“You deserve so much better than this.”

**Author's Note:**

> the next fic is the final chandlamara arc fic. thank fuck.
> 
> https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/


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